


'Cause You & Me, We're Not Meant For This World

by teenuviel1227



Series: Jaehyungparkian Threesomes [4]
Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: M/M, Polyamory, Smut, Threesome - M/M/M, but also fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-27 19:23:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12588876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teenuviel1227/pseuds/teenuviel1227
Summary: It’s hard to explain--after everything that they’d been through together, it seemed like second nature, like the only natural prospect. Maybe the world would never understand, but they do and that’s all that matters.Or the one where JaeBri are bestfriends who fall in love with Kim Wonpil and Kim Wonpil falls in love with bestfriends JaeBri.





	'Cause You & Me, We're Not Meant For This World

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ismere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ismere/gifts), [KIASK](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KIASK/gifts).



> This is a little outtake from the Stranger Things AU that I’m writing where JaeBri and the gang are trying to figure out all the creepy shiz happening in their town when they find strangeling with supernatural powers Wonpil in the woods (escaped from the nearby lab of course) and take care of him, housing him in Brian’s parents’ basement. Stay tuned for the actual AU for well, you know, the explicit stuff. ;)

The lights in the split-level flicker, the night hanging behind it like paper drenched in ink, the clouds moving to cover the full moon, the eye in the sky turning into a drop of milk, slick and wet. In the basement, three eighteen-year-olds sit cross legged, too tall for the fort made of old wood and blankets that hangs over them, passing around a sweating bottle of beer. They’re all knees and elbows, cramped in with each other, shoulders against shoulders, the small hairs on each others’ forearms brushing against one another, flannel kissing cotton kissing denim. They watch each other in the warm light, relieved to for once not be chasing after monsters or running away from supernatural beings or trying to rescue their friends from unending darkness, just sitting in the glow of fairy lights, an old The Cure song pulsing through the stereo. 

Wonpil leans in, watching the two young men sitting on either side of him talk: Jae eager and animated, words spilling out of him like a reel running through light, and Brian, sardonic and sly but warm, always so warm. Jae makes a joke, Brian scoffs. Wonpil smiles. It seems so long ago now since that day he’d run away from the lab, the night that he’d hid behind the logs and debris in the forest, cold and alone, waking up from a haze of exhaustion and hunger into the kindest faces he’d ever seen in his life: goofy, bespectacled but confident Jae, and handsome but cautious Brian. 

It’s strange, he thinks--because their lives had been in danger, the upside down turning itself inside-out, the chase relentless, the danger grave, but in a way, Wonpil had never felt more alive. Running alongside their gang, their group of friends to save Dowoon (the youngest of their group, the love of Sungjin’s life) had been the biggest experience of his life: brave Sungjin rushing in with his bat studded with nails to have at the creature, the  _ thing  _ rushing out of the abyss, quick Jae putting together the clues, the story, tying the little hints together with string to figure out a bigger solution, and clever Younghyun, getting them out of every tightspot, an escape artist with his hot wheels and loud music. 

Now that everything has been resolved, now that Dowoon and Sungjin are over at Dowoon’s having dinner with his parents, talking over roast and warm soup, now that they are safe (or seemingly so), Wonpil finds a different question bleeding into the edges of his mind. It’s subtle but clear--something in the way that Jae leans on him, puts his arm around him when they talk, in the way that Brian lets his smile linger a little longer on Wonpil, the way that he brushes the hair away from Wonpil’s eyes when the wind blows too hard. 

Wonpil doesn’t know the word for it yet--only knows it in images: a kind of fire breaking out from beneath glass to light up an entire field, like lightning if it ran under the skin, sending pulse racing like horses down a gorge to crash into the ocean wild with hunger. He doesn’t know what it is, but when Jae asks the question, he thinks it fits. 

“I think it’s called being in love,” Jae says. He glances up worriedly at Wonpil, at Brian. “It’s strange. I don’t know, Pil.” 

Brian lets out a slow breath. “Yeah. And we don’t want to put any pressure on you but you have to pick one. I’m going crazy here.” 

“No hard feelings. Friends no matter what,” Jae says reassuringly. 

“Yeah,” Brian agrees, taking a swig and the passing Wonpil the beer.

Wonpil takes a sip, smiles, likes how it tastes of the both of them--sweet, salty, intoxicating. 

“I don’t want to choose,” Wonpil says, smiling at them. “But yes, I agree--in love.”

Jae laughs. “Dude, what? Okay, Pil. You’re gonna have to give us a little something more here. So like, yes you’re in love but no you don’t want to choose? So which one are you in love with?”

“Yeah,” Brian says, shrugging. “I promise, it’s no biggie whoever you choose. We’re best friends, we’re mature adults here--well, I am anyway. So it’ll be fine. But the hanging by the moment, the not knowing. That’s the thing that’s so damn hard.”

“I don’t know it in words,” Wonpil says, holding out his hands, palms up. “Maybe I can show you guys?” 

Jae swallows. “The spooky Halloweeny stuff.” 

Brian rolls his eyes, putting his hand over Wonpil’s. It tingles where they touch. “Come on, don’t be chicken.” 

Jae sighs, places a trembling hand over Wonpil’s. Wonpil takes a deep breath, holds onto both of them tight, closes his eyes, drowns out the light, the sound, the air, focuses on what he wants to show them, on the electricity flowing through all three of them in that instant: lightning in a bottle. 

Everything goes black. 

Brian’s breath hitches with surprise. Jae’s grip grows tighter. 

And then everything is all hot breath and tingling skin, soft sighs and the sound of slick kissing. They see it before them on a backdrop of black, inky like the night that hangs above them: they’re naked as the night, three of them on a soft bed. There’s Brian with his hair, dark and matted to his temples, head thrown back, throat bared as Jae licks his way from earlobe to neck to collarbone, his deep voice moaning against Wonpil’s mouth. There’s Jae, platinum blonde hair ruffled and bright like a sunrise, hands busy as they stroke both himself and Brian, holding them stiff and slick and going slow, deep, moving against them like to hold is to love. There’s Wonpil, kissing Brian but moving into Jae, slow but steady, his hands rubbing the soft buttons of flesh on their chests until they pucker, brown and pink and wanting. 

In the basement, under the fort, Brian’s breathing starts to grow rapid. The image rousing in him something very real, something like fire, like rage, a force of nature, a wind in a door. Beside him, Jae’s heart is racing, his jeans suddenly too tight, his mouth suddenly too dry. Wonpil smiles.  _ They see. They see.  _

**Author's Note:**

> [Twitter](http://twitter.com/teenuviel1227)   
>  [Blog](http://teenuviel1227.wordpress.com)   
>  [Curious Cat](http://curiouscat.me/teenuviel1227)


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